


A Brilliant Mistake

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Find It Fix It Flog It RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, Flirting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Shyness, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: I'm not going to lie - it's a bit of smut - because I'm in love with these two and the thought gets me seriously hot under the collar. What can I say? This is the second time I've done the 'being forced to share a bed' trope in just a couple of months."They're one off if they think I'm sharing a bed with you every time we come up to Scotland." He turned around to look at Henry, who was pacing across the room and away from the window, after having closed the curtains. The bespectacled man grinned at him and Si couldn't help but smile as he met with his eyes.
Relationships: Simon O'Brien/Henry Cole
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	A Brilliant Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

"I can't believe this," Simon said, trying his best to portray annoyance at the situation by rolling his eyes and huffing loudly, but giggling slightly in the process - well, it _was _quite funny. He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off his socks.

"Well, these things happen, son - she's new, isn't she?" Henry stood by the window, admiring the Spring-time view of a Scottish Loch and glorious snow-capped mountains at dusk, the water shimmering with the slightest film of ice and the bank-edge decorated with frosted, crystalline reeds and moss - it was a breathtakingly stunning place, in spite of the cock-up.

The production company's new runner had booked them the most charming place imaginable north of the border - a peaceful country lodge situated in the middle of the Grampians, with a large breakfast and three-course dinner as standard, fine whiskies available and a roaring fire which never went out - oh, and the obligatory _stag's head_ in the drawing room. It was perfect, and she had done a cracking job - only, she had booked a bloody double-room instead of a twin.

"She only got the job because she's a niece of a cameraman," Si insisted, "They have hundreds of able applicants."

"What do you expect them to do, Si? Sack her? Over this?" Henry became suddenly defensive.

"No," Simon quietly chuntered. "But they're one off if they think I'm sharing a bed with you every time we come up to Scotland." He turned around to look at Henry, who was pacing across the room and away from the window, after having closed the curtains. The bespectacled man grinned at him and Si couldn't help but smile as he met with his eyes.

"There are lots of places up here we've never been to," Cole declared. And that was true. There was a great deal of wide open space in Scotland, away from the cities, and that meant an abundance of farms and barns - and junk to upcycle.

O'Brien unzipped his jeans and began to slide them off. He felt slightly self-conscious with the other man standing so close to him, as he pushed the trousers to the floor. It wasn't something he had given much thought to at the beginning of the day, when he expected to be undressing in his own room, but he was glad of the fact he had picked a decent pair of underwear today; Simon was a 'make do and mend' sort of person, and that was made obvious by his attitude towards items on Find It, Fix It, Flog It - he didn't like throwing things away unnecessarily, and some of his boxer shorts were getting a little well-worn, he thought with a bashful smirk.

He didn't know why the idea of it bothered him so much, but he wanted to be wearing nice ones for Henry; they were dark green, patterned, and a little too revealing under the circumstances, but they must have been nice because Henry was staring at them, Simon realised with a flush of timidness.

He scrambled under the covers. He kept his t-shirt on because it was quite chilly - but, also, it did feel especially nerve-racking taking his clothes off in front of his colleague, which was something he didn't quite understand when he had often undressed in communal changing rooms, etc - there was something about this that was somehow _different_.

As he snuggled into the bedclothes, he scooted across to the other side, and faced away from Henry - in case the older man felt the same about the problem (though nothing _ever_ seemed to embarrass Henry), or in case seeing his friend disrobing would embarrass Simon further. After all, his cheeks were already glowing pink. The next thing he knew was the sound of Henry's glasses clunking as they were placed on the bedside table, and the mattress sinking as another warm body clambered in; in spite of both of their best efforts, it was impossible to avoid a touch, Si sensing Henry's semi-naked frame against him - Cole had taken off his sweater, and O'Brien could feel the silky-smoothness of his friend's naked chest butted up against his elbow.

They remained like this for a few moments, not really saying very much - all that could be heard was the sound of a steady breathing, like a train - at first far away, but gradually chugging and moving closer into the station, until there was nowhere else to go, and Simon felt the need to speak: "Bloody ridiculous," he grumbled.

"I don't mind it," came a nonchalant reply. "And besides, you're certainly not the worst-looking person to wake up at the side of," Henry snorted.

"Oh, thanks for that - that's the last thing I need," Si said, sarcastically, slapping Henry's thigh gently behind him. "It's bad enough having to sleep at the side of you without you making out like you fancy me too."

"Why's that, man?" it came across as a genuine enquiry. And Simon rolled over slightly to glance at Henry. There was a dim light coming from a distant banker's-style lamp, placed on the desk at the far end of the room - just enough to see his expression, and it was as hard to read as War and Peace. "What would be wrong with me thinking you're attractive?" he pressured.

"Erm... Well, nothing," Si murmured, "It's just a surprising thing to hear - that's all."

There was a long, heavy breath expelled behind of him, and Simon could feel it on his skin. Henry began, clearly apprehensive of what he was about to to say, "I think that very few people are 100% _completely_ straight..."

"I think you're probably right," the Liverpudlian agreed, his voice so quiet that it started out as a whisper, and cracked midway through. He cleared his throat, feeling almost as if he was ill and had a cold - with his face burning up a little and his voice leaving him.

"And that small part of me that isn't..." Henry continued, "...whatever percentage it might be... is... all about _you_, Si." Simon could feel the other man fidget nervously. "I think you're quite lovely," he went on to explain, "For a fella."

In the darkness, Henry heard his co-presenter swallow, and his breathing was harsh and ragged, though muted. And though Si didn't make a direct answer to what had been said, he did the next best thing. "It's cold, isn't it?" O'Brien stated, grabbing Cole's arm from where it had been resting against the back of his legs and wrapping it around him fully. The hand clutched strongly at Simon's torso and brought him back to Henry's side of the bed, forceful and loving. Without words, Henry undoubtedly told Simon that he agreed, and that he wanted nothing more than to keep him warm. Eventually, Si heard a small hum of approval in his ear, as the motorcyclist's lips found his neck, embellishing the flesh with a few firm and yet, soft, kisses - and the hand burrowed under his shirt.

Simon cracked up with laughter as the hand tickled at his skin. Henry squeezed at his love handles, affectionately, and Si squirmed - slightly abashed. "It doesn't matter how much I cycle, or exercise - I can never seem to get rid of this little 'dad belly'," he told him, sounding a tad nervous of what his partner would think.

"--I like it," Henry was quick to interrupt him. "It's part of you... and I like _all_ of you," he hissed, caressing the skin adoringly - his hand delving downwards, and his thumb dipping into the waistband of Simon's underpants by barely an inch - but, without doubt, enough to let the owner know of his intentions.

"Ehp-- Naughty," O'Brien chastised the other man, smacking his hand.

"But I _am_ naughty," Henry growled, hungry now and tugging at the boxers, "I can't stop myself..."

"Jesus... _fuck_," gasped Simon, as the hand made light work of taking his pants down to his ankles, and wrapping itself around his stiffening cock.

"You're already more than half-way there," the voice danced in Si's ear, "You must really like all of this..."

"Yes, Henry... _Yes_ ," his breath heaved. He mewled as the hand disappeared for a moment or two, but it soon returned to please Simon - this time wet with saliva, every stroke so slippery and agonisingly slow that it was like pleasure and torture simultaneously, and Si was like a limp puppet in his arms. "Oh _god._ I've felt the same for such a long time," he suspired, arching into the grip, "I _realise_ that now..."

Henry had taken that one minute - where his hand was not clenched around Si - to take down his own boxer shorts also; he wanted to be as naked as was possible, and to have as much of his bare skin touching Simon's as he could. At this time, Si might not have realised this, but it didn't take long to catch on to what was happening, as he felt the blonde-haired man grind against him, needy and insatiable. His large erect cock was pressed right up to his backside, and the feel of the older presenter writhing against him, thrusting into him, and literally _using _his body as a means of getting off, was driving Simon crazy. His own dick pulsed within Henry's grasp, growing and surging further with every second.

"I want you to..." O'Brien uttered, "I want you, Henry... I think want you to--" He frantically grabbed at Cole's hard arousal and tried to drive it into himself, nudging the cock-head at his entrance, "I love the thought of having you _inside_ me."

"--Not... Not now - I can't," Henry hesitated, and he heard the younger man whimper with disappointment, "We haven't got the right... bits and bobs. And I can tell you haven't done this before." Their brains were addled from the excitement of it all, however - marginally the more coherent of the two, despite a shared lack of experience, he was aware it would be a difficult and painful task without the correct paraphernalia. He couldn't help himself though from sampling the tiniest bit of what Si had to offer; he grazed the tip of his engorged cock against Simon's hole, dreaming of what it would be like to fully enter him. And he was _overcome _with lust. Not able to have him in one way, he tried another - he shoved his erection between Simon's thighs and began to push and pull, the friction everything he needed to get off.

All of the while, Henry had been masturbating Si with his left hand, the stickiness of the saliva drying up and the strokes becoming less infuriating and more satisfying. It wasn't long before O'Brien was bucking in Cole's tight hold and letting out the almightiest of groans, spilling all over his lover's fingers. Henry climaxed soon after, between Simon's legs; weary and drained, he let his head fall on his companion's shoulder, the dampness of his sweat-ridden hair cold, wet, and a shock to the actor's searing hot skin - but, nonetheless, Si clutched at Henry's sodden locks and guided him closer, into the crook of his neck, where he could hold him tight.

"You know... Henry... How there's only the one bed in this room," Simon said, out of the blue.

"Yeah?" Henry was still panting, coming down from such an astronomical high.

"Do you think there are any spare _sheets_?" Si asked him, through stifled sniggers.

"Probably not. We'll have to sleep on your side," came the suggestion. "We'll have to get _really_ close. I hope you won't mind."

"That's okay, but only for now," Simon pretended to be begrudging, "We'll have to get the runner to book us a room with two beds next time we have to come up to Scotland."

"Not a chance, you Scouse git," Henry chuckled, "I'm never missing out on this again."


End file.
